


Me On My Way to You

by setepenre_set



Category: Megamind (2010)
Genre: Alien Sex, Eventual Smut, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Tentacle Sex, Tentacles, no dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-08
Updated: 2016-05-12
Packaged: 2018-06-07 05:24:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6787162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/setepenre_set/pseuds/setepenre_set
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary: pre-movie AU, Roxanne and Megamind meet accidentally at a club. Roxanne is drunk and Megamind asks if he can take her home. She says yes, assuming that the implication is implied. (it isn’t.)<br/>M for language, alcohol use, and eventual sexual content (no dubcon)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [VairaSmythe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VairaSmythe/gifts).



> based on a prompt by VairaWrites.

She notices him because of the way he _isn’t_ moving.

Everything else is moving, the whole club a seething mass of flashing lights and writhing bodies, people crowded together and tangled up together and rubbing up against one another, lubricated by sweat and alcohol.

And there—in the sea of motion, there is Megamind, standing perfectly still. He’s dressed in black, of course, a sharply tailored business suit instead of his usual spikes and leather, and there’s about a foot of empty space all the way around his body, none of the drunken club-goers quite daring to get any closer to him.

He’s standing at the edge of the dance floor, scowling and looking off in the direction opposite of Roxanne; he evidently hasn’t seen her.

Roxanne is—slightly drunk. Slightly. Slightly more than slightly. There may or may not have been tequila shots earlier in the night. Her friends are gone; Cassie left with some guy an hour ago, and Sabrina disappeared about twenty minutes ago with another group of her (louder, drunker, more fun) other friends.

So there’s no one to tell her that weaving her way across the dance floor towards Megamind is a bad idea.

He sees her when she’s about halfway there; she sees him see her, his eyes widening and then flicking down her body, taking in the dress she has on (wine-colored silk; shorter than she usually wears; really she shouldn’t have worn it at all; the straps have been slipping down her shoulders all night), the shoes she has on (strappy stilletos that hurt like a bitch), before his

eyes meet hers again.

(Roxanne feels the pressure of his gaze like a physical thing, like hands sliding down her body and then back up; the entire look he gives her lasts about two seconds but she shivers anyway)

And then she’s across the dance floor, at the edge of the little bubble of space around him.

“What’s a nice man like you doing in a place like this?” Roxanne asks, which—yeah, that. Probably doesn’t make a whole lot of sense.

(Irony, take refuge in irony, you were being ironic, it wasn’t that you were distracted by the colored lights hitting that perfect blue skin of his and forgot how to hold a conversation)

Megamind frowns, his gaze dropping to Roxanne’s mouth (painted with lipstick to match her dress at the beginning of the night; most of it has rubbed off by now, though).

Roxanne steps closer, tilting her chin up and Megamind says—

Something; she can’t hear what it is, her eyes going to his mouth, gaze catching on the shape of it, the way it moves.

(oh. that. must have been why he was looking at her mouth)

“What?” Roxanne says, shouts, really, but Megamind simply frowns, obviously still not understanding, so Roxanne steps even closer, the movement fast enough that Megamind is too startled to stop her, but so fast that she doesn’t see the way his eyes go wide again.

She puts her hands on his chest to steady herself (stupid wobbly heels, stupid wobbly knees) and leans forward until her mouth is pressed against his ear.

He goes still again, beneath her hands; she can feel the way he stops breathing.

“Megamind,” she says, right in his ear, so that he can hear her, “what are you doing here?”

For a long moment he just stands there, and then Roxanne sways a little and one of his hands goes to the small of her back, resting there lightly, steadying her.

He turns his face, cheek brushing hers, his nose sliding into her hair.

“Business,” he says, lips against her ear, “Miss Ritchi. Just business.”

Roxanne sways again, tightening her fingers on the lapels of his coat.

“Is this a kidnapping?” she asks, and hears him, feels him, laugh in her ear, breath stirring her hair, the sensation of it sending a shiver down the length of her spine.

“Shockingly, Miss Ritchi,” he says, “there are aspects of my business as the head of Metrocity’s criminal underworld that don’t involve kidnapping you.”

His other hand is on her upper back now, his thumb brushing back and forth over the material of her dress, seemingly unconsciously.

Roxanne feels a lot more intoxicated, suddenly.

“Are there?” she asks, mind only half on the conversation.

She slides one arm over his shoulders, her hand going to the back of his neck; much better balance this way, yes, balance, that’s why—

Megamind laughs again, but it sounds—almost breathless this time.

“Nosy reporter,” he says. “Yes.”

“Mmm,” Roxanne says absently, brushing her thumb back and forth over the skin of his neck, mimicking the motion of his thumb on her back. “Like what?”

Megamind gasps.

“ _Temptress_ ,” he says, voice a little uneven, “I—I’m not going to answer that question.”

Roxanne hums again and lets herself lean fully into him, so that they’re pressed together.

Megamind doesn’t even stumble at the sudden shift of her weight. His hand on the small of her slips around her waist, instead, fingers curling over her hip as he holds her up, his other arm wrapping around her back and catching hold of her shoulder.

“I’ll bet you’re a fantastic dancer,” Roxanne says in Megamind’s ear. “Dance with me?”

God, she wants to dance with him, wants to make him move for her, with her—

Megamind doesn’t respond for a long moment, and when he does, his voice seems to have—changed, somehow.

“You’re drunk,” he says.

His fingers catch hold of the strap of her dress; it’s slipped down over her shoulder again. Roxanne goes still and Megamind gently pulls the strap back up into place, his fingertips dragging over her skin.

She feels him sigh, a long, shuddery breath, and then he speaks again, voice in her ear.

“Let me take you home,” he says.

And her head is spinning and her heart is racing and Roxanne can’t think of any reason not to press her lips to his ear and say—

“Yes.”

* * *

 

They take a cab; Roxanne isn’t really expecting that, but when she looks at him inquiringly, he says—

“I took the hover bike here; the goal is for you not to die, Miss Ritchi.”

Which, yeah, okay, Roxanne isn’t too drunk to see the logic in that.

The cabbie stares at them in the rearview mirror until Megamind glares at him pointedly. Roxanne snickers and leans her face against the cold window when the man turns away with a terrified expression.

Megamind gives the driver Roxanne’s address, which she supposes also makes sense, although it’s a little disappointing. She’d really been hoping he was going to take her to the Lair.

“You didn’t see anything,” Megamind tells the man when they pull up at Roxanne’s apartment. He shoves a large amount of cash through the cab window. “If I were to hear that you had said something about this to someone—anyone—I would be very displeased, do you understand?”

Roxanne tilts her head up to the sky, breathing in the cool night air as Megamind gets on with the business of bribing/threatening the cab driver. Her hearing has mostly recovered from the overloud volume of the club music; her ears are ringing a little, but that’s all. She spins in a slightly dizzy circle, arms out.

Megamind catches her arm.

“You’re going to fall,” he tells her, frowning at her underneath the street lamps outside of her apartment, and then he picks her up, one arm under her knees, the other around her waist.

“Oh,” Roxanne says quietly, a little dazed at the way she’s been swept off her feet, a little distracted by how close Megamind’s face is, his green eyes, his cheekbones, the line of his goatee over his sharp chin.

She puts her arms around his neck and he takes a swift breath.

“Close your eyes,” he says. “I don’t—want to have to explain the next part.”

Roxanne has no idea what he’s talking about, but she closes her eyes.

He doesn’t kiss her; he starts walking, instead, and then they’re going through the doors of the apartment building.

“Miss Ritchi!” she hears Carlos say.

“She’s just a little intoxicated,” Megamind tells him. “I’m taking her home.”

“I see,” Carlos says, and his voice sounds like he disapproves, but not like he’s going to call the cops, which is—how did Megamind—?

They step into the elevator, and as the doors shut, Roxanne can’t resist opening her eyes, looking up at—

It isn’t Megamind holding her, it’s the cab driver; Roxanne goes stiff in the man’s arms, getting ready to shove herself away, and then he looks down at her and sighs and twists the face of his wristwatch.

The image of the cab driver flickers and—

And it’s Megamind after all.

“Disguise watch,” he says. “Such a nosy reporter. Should have known you wouldn’t listen.”

“Sorry,” Roxanne says, relaxing again. Disguise watch. Sure. Makes as much sense as anything else Megamind has ever done. She leans her head on his shoulder. “Couldn’t help it.”

The elevator opens and Megamind steps out, moving to her apartment door. He stops in front of it and slides the key into the lock (Roxanne could have sworn her key was in her handbag, still, when did he—)

He opens the door and steps inside, closing the door with his foot.

Megamind hesitates for a moment, then, standing just inside her front door, so Roxanne puts her mouth against his ear, just like she did at the club, and whispers—

“Take me to bed, Megamind.”

Held in his arms like this, it’s impossible to miss the way his whole body shivers, a fine tremor running through him.

He carries her to the bedroom.

Roxanne is expecting—she isn’t sure what she’s expecting, but she isn’t expecting him to set her down gently on the edge of the bed, isn’t expecting him to kneel at her feet, isn’t expecting him to start carefully unbuckling the straps of her shoes.

She pushes herself up on her elbows to look at him. He pulls her right shoe off and makes a distressed noise.

“Why in Evil’s name would you wear these?” he asks, looking appalled. “You have _blisters_.”

“I looked good in them, though, right?” Roxanne says.

“You’d look better if you weren’t _bleeding_ ,” Megamind says, tossing her left shoe aside and standing. “Stay there.”

Roxanne blinks at him and he turns and walks into the bathroom. She takes the opportunity to wriggle herself fully onto the bed. Megamind comes back from the bathroom with a washcloth and her first aid kit. He pauses for a moment, and then sits gingerly on the edge of her bed and pulls her feet into his lap.

Oh.

He begins to gently wash her feet with the cloth.

Oh. That’s—oh.

He sets the cloth aside and takes out a cotton ball, pours antiseptic over it.

“This is going to hurt,” he says, and swipes it across her blisters.

Roxanne hisses between her teeth.

“Sorry, sorry,” Megamind says worriedly, as though it’s his personal fault that antiseptic stings.

He dabs antibacterial ointment on her blisters, and then puts bandaids on over them.

He uses the kid bandaids, the blue ones with the yellow stars that Roxanne bought on a whim, instead of the boring taupe-colored ones; she doesn’t quite know what to do about the way her heart sort of flips over at that, so she sits up, climbs into his lap, and kisses him.

He freezes, stiff and still and unresponsive, and then he—

—he pushes her away.

“What are you doing?” he asks, sounding shocked.

“What am I—” Roxanne stares at him. “What do you mean, what am I doing? You—you asked if you could take me home; I told you to take me to bed; what do you think I’m doing?”

Megamind shoves himself to his feet, backing away from her until he’s stopped short by her dresser. He puts his hands on top of it, steadying himself.

“What. I. You. I meant—” he says, eyes round, “—I meant, ‘let me take you to your home, Miss Ritchi, because you are clearly too drunk to be wandering around by yourself’! Not—I—it wasn’t some sort of code for—”

“I asked you to take me to bed, Megamind!” Roxanne says, disbelief and humiliation flaring in her chest. “What the hell did you think I meant?”

“I thought you meant ‘take me to my bed and put me in it, please, so I can sleep’! I didn’t—you—you must be considerably more intoxicated than I thought!” Megamind says, pressed back against her dresser, eyes wide, ears and cheekbones stained pink.

Oh god. Oh god, Roxanne is—Roxanne wants to die. He doesn’t—he doesn’t—he looks terrified—

She curls up into a ball, ignoring the way it makes her head spin. Fuck fuck fuck her.

“Sorry,” she says, feeling tears start in her eyes. “My mistake. Sorry.”

Roxanne really, really doesn’t want to cry in front of him, so when he says—

“I—you—you have a boyfriend, Miss Ritchi.”

—she forces herself to laugh instead, sits up, swipes angrily at her eyes.

“Right,” she says bitterly. “My ‘ _boyfriend_ ’. How could I forget.”

“I don’t,” Megamind says, “I don’t understand. What—”

“He isn’t my boyfriend!” Roxanne bursts out, drunk and angry and hating herself too much to care that she probably shouldn’t be telling this to Megamind. “He isn’t my boyfriend. He’s never been my boyfriend. I haven’t got a fucking boyfriend, Megamind.” She pulls her knees into her chest and leans her head on them, tears rising again in spite of her best intentions.

God, she’s such a fucking mess.

She sniffs, head on her knees.

“Nobody wants me,” she says sadly.

“That—” she hears Megamind say, “—that is definitely an incorrect statement.”

Roxanne looks up at him, glaring through her tears.

“ _You_ don’t,” she accuses.

(because that’s, if she’s honest, the real problem, the real problem that drove her to wear this stupid dress and those torture device heels, drove her to go out clubbing with a pair of women who aren’t even really her friends when she doesn’t even enjoy going to clubs at all, drove her to—drove her—drives her fucking crazy)

Megamind stares at her.

“You. Are you serious right now?” he asks. “I don’t want you? I don’t—you think that I don’t—? Of course. Of course!” he throws his hands up in the air, then drags them down his face in a frustrated gesture.

“Of course,” he bites out. “Because it’s not as if I’m so fucking in love with you that it’s sort of hard to breathe sometimes when you’re in the same room. It’s not as if I didn’t have to forcibly restrain myself from pinning you against the wall in that damn club when you put your _hands_ on my _neck_ and _whispered_ in my _fucking_ _ear_. It’s not as if—” he pushes himself away from her dresser, crosses the room suddenly, kneels on the bed in front of Roxanne, presses her down onto the mattress.

“It’s not as if I haven’t wanted to do _this_ —” he says, hovering above her, eyes blazing with anger and with heat of an entirely different kind.

“—Megamind—” Roxanne gasps.

“—for fucking _years_ , Roxanne,” Megamind snarls, and he leans down and—

It’s not a nice kiss: too much force, too much teeth and desperation, and Roxanne should not moan when he thrusts his tongue into her mouth, should not wrap her arms around him and pull him even closer when he tangles his fingers too tightly in her hair, should definitely not, when his body presses down, roll her hips up shamelessly into his.

Megamind tears himself away from her, moving back so fast he almost falls off the bed, and then he’s halfway across the room again.

“Megamind,” Roxanne says helplessly, reaching out her hand.

“No,” he says. “Nonononono. Gnh. You are—you are drunk and I would never forgive myself. You would—you would never forgive me, either.”

“Megamind, please,” Roxanne begs.

He shudders, closes his eyes, wraps his arms around his chest.

“Roxanne,” he says, and she sees his throat work as he swallows. “Miss Ritchi—” He opens his eyes.

“Please,” Roxanne says softly.

His breath catches.

“Fuck,” he says. “Ask me—ask me another time, Roxanne. Tomorrow. Ask me tomorrow.”

“Megamind—”

“I’m going to get you a glass of water,” he blurts, and bolts from the room.

Roxanne lies back on the mattress. She feels—everything is—brightly colored and yet dark around the edges, and—

She must doze off, because the next thing she knows, she hears the clink of a glass being placed on her bedside table. She opens her eyes. Megamind is turning away, turning to go, and she reaches out to grab his arm.

Everything is a little blurry, though, so she ends up missing him. The frustrated noise she makes gets his attention, however; he stops and turns to her.

“Don’t go,” Roxanne says. “Please. Stay with me?”

“I really don’t think that’s a good idea,” Megamind says slowly. “Sober you is—really going to regret this already.”

“But what if I die?” Roxanne asks, because Megamind is right, sober Roxanne might regret this, but drunk Roxanne is allowed to be melodramatic and manipulative and look up at Megamind with wide eyes.

“Bad plan,” Megamind says. “Such a bad plan. But. Fuck. Okay. Just. I’ll be right back, all right?”

Roxanne nods, and Megamind slips out the door again, and it’s not until he’s been gone for a while that it occurs to her that this was totally probably a trick, and she’s lying there trying to decide if she should cry or just curl up and go to sleep when Megamind climbs through her bedroom window.

“You came back,” she says stupidly.

“I—yes,” Megamind says hesitantly. “Of course, I—I told you that I would. I had to make sure Mr. Judge-y Doorman downstairs saw me leave in my disguise. And then I had to climb up the fire escape. So that took a while.”

“Carlos?” Roxanne asks. “Why—”

“Well, I mean,” Megamind says. “I didn’t—I don’t want to ruin your reputation? Did you drink your water?”

Roxanne looks over at the glass on her bedside table, squints at it. Still full.

“No-oo?” she hazards.

“Okay, you need to do that.”

Roxanne looks at the glass, looks back at Megamind. The bed is so soft and the cup is—

“—so far away—” Roxanne complains, extending her arm but not leaning towards the cup, in order to demonstrate how very prohibitively, impossibly far away it is.

“There you go,” Megamind says, and puts the cup in her hands.

Roxanne stares at the cup.

She has a cup now; she’s going to—going to—

“Here,” Megamind says, taking it out of her hands again and putting an arm underneath her shoulders, pulling her into a sitting position. He doesn’t hand her the cup again, but sits on the bedside, instead, and holds it to her lips, one hand on the back of her head

“Drink,” Megamind says coaxingly, and tips the glass. Roxanne drinks. Slowly, savoring the coolness of the water and Megamind, here like this, helping her. Finally, though, the water is gone, and he places the glass back on the bedside table. He arranges Roxanne so that she’s lying down again, and then stands and moves back to her dresser again, hops up and sits cross-legged atop it.

Roxanne snickers.

“You could sit on the bed,” she says, patting the mattress invitingly. “With me.”

“No,” Megamind says firmly.

“But I want you,” Roxanne says, looking up at him through her lashes.

“Ask me—ask me again tomorrow, Roxanne,” Megamind says, an edge of—something, despair, desperation, in his voice. “Just ask me again tomorrow.”

“—’s the answer going to be different tomorrow?” Roxanne asks, yawning. Mmmm, soft pillow, yes, sleep now.

“It doesn’t matter,” Megamind says sadly.

“Hmm?” Roxanne says, frowning as she burrows deeper into her pillow. “Why?”

“Because you’re not going to ask the question,” Megamind says, and Roxanne, glancing up at him, sees him smile a wry, bitter smile that she wants to brush away with her thumb, with her own mouth, and then she blinks, eyelids dragging closed and—


	2. Chapter 2

Roxanne wakes up with a terrible headache and no very clear memory of the night before. Shit, was she drinking tequila? Never a good idea, Roxanne. Never a good idea.

She opens bleary eyes and then very nearly screams, because _Megamind_ _is_ _sitting_ _on_ _her_ _dresser_ , slouched back against the wall, watching her and what. the _everlovingfuck_. is _Megamind_ doing here. in her _fucking_ _bedroom_?

Roxanne makes a strangled noise.

“Oh good,” Megamind says, voice rough-edged, as if with sleep or exhaustion or—

(arousal)

“—you’re awake,” he says, and rubs his hand down his face.

Roxanne makes another strangled noise.

“—what,” she manages to say.

Megamind looks at her and his mouth goes flat.

“Sorry,” he says. “I decided that the intrinsic creepiness of me watching you while you slept would be less terrible than the possibility of you throwing up in the night and dying.”

Roxanne’s stomach revolts on cue; she bolts for the bathroom, making it just in time to vomit in the toilet.

(Oh god tequila why would you do that to yourself Roxanne)

“Miss Ritchi—” Megamind says from the doorway as Roxanne retches again jesus christ this day is just getting off to a fanfuckingtastic start—

Megamind makes a distressed noise, and then his hands are in her hair, holding it back from her face as she throws up again, and Roxanne is bewildered and embarrassed and ridiculously fucking grateful, his hands cool against her skin.

Finally she’s done; she leans shakily back against the bathroom cabinet, blinking tears from her eyes.

Megamind brushes her hair back from her face and stands.

“I’ll be right back,” he says.

Roxanne closes her eyes, hears Megamind leave, hears him come back and run the sink for a moment and then turn it off.

“Here,” he says, and Roxanne opens her eyes to see him kneeling in front of her again, holding a glass of water out to her.

(Megamind’s hand on the back of her head, Megamind sitting on the edge of her bed and helping her to drink)

Roxanne takes the glass. She rinses her mouth, spits, and then drinks.

“Do you think you can eat something?” Megamind asks, voice pitched quiet enough that it doesn’t even hurt her head.

Roxanne grimaces.

“I want to brush my teeth,” she says.

“Okay,” Megamind stands.

She hears him rummaging around in her cabinet. Roxanne closes her eyes briefly for strength, and then grabs the edge of the sink and pulls herself to her feet.

Roxanne sways once she’s standing; Megamind catches her waist, stopping her from falling.

(I’ll bet you’re a fantastic dancer)

“Careful,” he says, voice low.

He steps back away from her, far enough that she’s standing on her own, close enough to catch her if she falls; Roxanne leans back against the sink.

This close, Roxanne can see the dark shadows underneath his eyes, smudged eyeliner and exhaustion, can see the pulse beating in his throat, can see him swallow.

“Here,” he says, pushing two tylenol into her hand, giving Roxanne her toothbrush. He slips out of the room.

Roxanne, not knowing what else to do, swallows the pills and brushes her teeth, careful not to make herself gag again.

She rinses her toothbrush under the faucet, rinses out her mouth, splashes water over her face, and glances in the mirror.

God, she looks like shit, face pale and hair wild, still in her dress from the night before, the fabric wrinkled and somehow sordid in the morning light.

She winces and goes back into her bedroom, to her bed. Megamind is probably gone by now; she’s still not really sure what the fuck he was doing here in the first place, but now that she’s alone, she’ll be able to sleep off this hangover.

Roxanne sits on the bed, curls up on her side; she’ll change her clothes in a minute, just a minute. She closes her eyes and—

—she—

—remembers—

(Megamind’s body on top of her own, his mouth opening over hers, slick and hard and demanding)

What.

Roxanne is.

Roxanne wakes up in last night’s dress with a full sense-memory of what Megamind’s mouth tastes like what the fuck is—

(the lights of the club on Megamind’s skin, his lips against her ear _let_ _me_ _take_ _you_ _home_ , the cold cab window against her cheek, spinning on the sidewalk, face turned up to the night sky, Megamind sweeping her off her feet _take_ _me_ to _bed_ Megamind kneeling and taking off her shoes, his hands pressing bandaids to her skin Roxanne in his lap with her arms around his neck leaning down to—)

Did—did she—

( _What are you doing, I thought you meant, wasn’t some sort of code,_ Megamind backing away from her—)

Oh fucking hell. She only just got drunk and _threw_ _herself_ _at_ _Megamind_ last night, didn’t she? Shit. Shit. She remembers begging him to fuck her, remembers him saying no, remembers pleading with him to stay with her oh god this is the worst thing that Roxanne has ever done while drunk. The worst. This is the worst. She is the worst.

“Toast,” Megamind says, from the doorway. “And. Tea. Sorry. I was going to make coffee but I didn’t know how to work your machine and I, um, thought I’d better not risk it? I used the microwave. For the tea. And the toaster. For the toast. Obviously. Obviously for the toast. I—I know how to make toast.”

“What are you still _doing_ _here_?” Roxanne says, clutching at her hair in an attempt to stop herself from panicking.

“Ah,” Megamind says, putting the tea and the plate down on the bedside table. “Sorry. I’ll—I’ll just—of course, you want me to leave—”

“No!” Roxanne says before she can stop herself, because she is a sad and pathetic human. “I—I just don’t understand, you—you made me toast; why the fuck would you make me toast?”

“Am I—was the toast—am I doing this wrong?” Megamind asks, drawing back.

“I don’t know what you’re trying to do!” Roxanne says, feeling a little hysterical. “Megamind, last night—”

Megamind winces, his whole body flinching away from her.

“Don’t,” he says, “you don’t—you don’t have to say anything. In fact—please. Please don’t. Just. I.”

He swallows, then looks at her again, eyes meeting hers with what is clearly an effort.

“I meant it,” he says. “And I wouldn’t mention it again, but you don’t—I don’t ever want you to think that—that no one wants you. Because I do. I always—hopefully that’s. Some small consolation. Although, really, Roxanne, I’m sure I’m not the only one, because you’re—” he waves a hand at her. “You know. Perfect. So.”

Roxanne stares at him, wide-eyed, clutching her pillow to her chest, as the rest of the memories from last night click into place.

(so fucking in love with you that it’s hard to breathe, and wanted to do this for fucking years Roxanne, and—)

(ask me again. Ask me again tomorrow.)

(is the answer going to be different tomorrow?)

(it doesn’t matter.)

(because you aren’t going to ask the question)

“Megamind,” Roxanne whispers.

“It’s okay,” he says quickly, backing away, arms wrapped around his chest, eyes avoiding hers. “It’s okay, you don’t—”

And Roxanne can feel her heart beating hard in her throat, can feel herself trembling, because this is—this is not her drunk on tequila and dazed by flashing lights, wrapping her arms around Megamind’s neck, this is her sober and terrified, looking at Megamind in the cold morning light and holding her shaking hand out to him and saying—

“Megamind—please.”

He goes still, stares at her, shock and confusion in his face.

“This,” Roxanne swallows. “This is me. Asking the question.”

Megamind stares at her for a long moment, long enough for Roxanne to start to worry that she’s somehow—

But then Megamind moves slowly, hesitantly forward, kneels on the bed in front of her. He takes her hand, lacing their fingers together, and then his other hand slides into her hair and he leans down and—

It’s nothing like the kiss from last night.

That kiss was rough and fast and hungry. This one is unbelievably gentle, Megamind’s mouth light and unsure over hers in a way that makes Roxanne’s heart ache. She reaches up with her free hand and places her palm on Megamind’s face, brushes her thumb over his cheekbone, and kisses him back.

He’s kissing her like it’s a question, still, so Roxanne kisses him like an answer, like the answer is yes, until he finally seems to get it, pulling her close and kissing her with more certainty.

Megamind pulls away but doesn’t let go of her. He kisses her cheekbone, her ear, her chin, the corner of her jaw.

One of the straps on Roxanne’s dress has fallen down over her shoulder again; Megamind pushes it back into place and presses a kiss to her shoulder, and that is the tipping point for Roxanne, really: Megamind pushing the strap of her dress back up, sweet and unexpected and ridiculous.

Megamind with his pushing up the straps of her dress and his I-made-you-toast-with-the-toaster and his sitting on top of her dresser instead of on her bed and just—him. Really. Just him.

She laughs and kisses him again, quick and light, and then sits back and takes his hands, guiding them underneath the hem of her dress. She laughs again at the shocked look on his face and lifts her arms over her head.

“I want you to take it off of me,” Roxanne says.

Megamind looks even more shocked than before, but he does it, sliding his palms up her body and pulling the dress over her head.

She isn’t wearing a bra, a fact that Megamind really doesn’t seem prepared for, to judge by the way he takes a sharp breath, lets it out in a ragged exhale.

He kisses her again, and Roxanne lets herself fall backwards, trusting Megamind to catch her. He does, arms going around her back, lowering her gently to the bed.

“Roxanne,” he says, voice shaking, and then he presses his lips to her throat.

He kisses down the length of her body; not just the obvious places like her neck and shoulders and breasts, but everywhere: the inside of her left elbow, her right wrist, both her knees, her right shin and her left ankle.

Megamind kisses her left hip, right above the line of her lacy thong, and then makes a surprised sort of noise.

“What?” Roxanne asks.

“You have a constellation on your hip,” he says, rubbing his thumb over her skin. “The freckles, here.” 

Roxanne raises herself onto her elbows and looks down at her own hip, at Megamind.

“Really?” she asks. “Which one?”

“The Queen of the Stars,” he says, “Alte-re.”

Roxanne frowns.

“I’ve never—”

“It’s not an earth constellation,” Megamind says absently.

And that’s—Roxanne is feeling a little overwhelmed, suddenly, because this is a man who has seen the actual stars, up close, and he is looking at her as if she is—

“You are so beautiful,” Megamind tells her in a hushed tone. “So incredibly—do you know how—all my life, I have never—I have never seen anything as beautiful as you are.”

Roxanne—how is she—how can she respond to something like that, to—

Megamind kisses her hip again, kisses the freckle constellation from an alien sky. He slides his fingers beneath the lace on her hip.

“Is this—” he asks. “Roxanne, can I—?”

He glances up at her and Roxanne nods, lifts her hips so he can pull her panties off of her.

And then she’s completely bare in front of him, which should feel scary, maybe, given the fact that he’s still fully dressed, given the fact that he’s a criminal, a supervillain, a—

But he’s still looking at her with that expression of amazement, of wonder and, and reverence, and all Roxanne feels is powerful and beautiful and loved.

(besides, this is Megamind. Roxanne has never been afraid, with Megamind)

“Roxanne,” Megamind says, “God, Roxanne—can I—please, will you let me—?”

And Roxanne isn’t really certain what he’s asking, but she says—

“Yes.”

Megamind lets out a shuddery breath and leans his forehead against her hip.

“I,” he says, face hidden against her skin, “I have never—I really want to—please, if I do something wrong, please let me know.”

“Okay,” Roxanne says.

“Okay,” Megamind breathes, and moves to lie between Roxanne’s knees, hands on her inner thighs.

“Okay,” he repeats in a whisper. He moves his hands to Roxanne’s hips, brushes his thumb over the pattern on her left hip. And then he takes a quick breath and leans his head down between Roxanne’s legs and kisses her there.

Roxanne gasps and Megamind pulls away, looking up at her as if he’s afraid he’s hurt her. So Roxanne smiles at him and reaches out to stroke her hand over the curve of his head and parts her knees a little wider in invitation.

Megamind moans when her palm cups the back of his head, and he bends down to put his mouth on her again.

And Roxanne is pretty sure she knows what he meant by _I_ _have_ _never_ , even though he didn’t complete the thought, so she’s not expecting—but this is Megamind, of course, and Megamind is nothing if not a fast learner. And he’s clearly—he’s paying attention; when a specific flick of his tongue makes Roxanne’s breath catch, he does it again, tiny alterations in the repeated motion until he finds the perfect pressure, the perfect angle, until Roxanne is crying out and clutching at the sheets with one hand, her other hand braced on the back of Megamind’s head as she rocks her hips up into him.

He does that again and again and again, learning all of the ways to make her arch her back and cry out for him. And when he has a whole array of motions figured out, he runs through all of them, one right after the other, going through them in a pattern. Just as Roxanne thinks she catches the order, though, just as she thinks she’ll be able to predict what’s next, he alters it, repeating the motions randomly now, speeding up, and—

“Megamind—” Roxanne gasps, pushing herself up on one elbow so that she can—she wants to see—

God, yes, the large, smooth shape of his head between her legs and the blue of his skin, so startling and perfect against her own, her hand on the back of his head, his hands on her waist, not holding her still but stroking her skin and letting her move as she likes, blue hands that are so much gentler and more generous than they have any right to be.

This is—this is _Megamind_ that she’s with, _Megamind_ with his mouth pressed to her and his tongue fluttering against her, driving her closer and closer to the edge, _Megamind_ grinding his hips down against the bed and moaning like getting to do this for Roxanne is the best thing that he’s ever experienced, and—

Roxanne gasps out—

“ _Megamind_ —”

—again as she tips over that precipice of pleasure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...to be continued


	3. Chapter 3

When Roxanne comes back down, she looks down at Megamind, who is watching her, staring at her with dark eyes like he’s memorizing everything about this moment.

“Hey,” she says, smiling and reaching down to tug at the collar of his shirt—god, how is he still dressed— “Hey, come here.”

He moves up the bed to lie next to her and Roxanne turns towards him, pressing her lips to the corner of his mouth and reaching out to brush her hand over the front of his trousers and—

Megamind jerks his entire body away from her, sitting up and scrambling away and drawing his legs up, wrapping his arms around his knees and what the absolute hell—

He’s breathing too hard, suddenly, too shallow, and he looks like he’s close to panicking—

“Hey,” Roxanne says soothingly, “hey, it’s okay, Megamind; what is it; what’s wrong?”

“You,” he swallows, throat working, “you don’t have to do that.”

“Do—do you not want me to?” Roxanne asks slowly. She wants to, obviously, but if Megamind doesn’t feel comfortable—

Megamind makes a strangled sound that’s something like a very unhappy laugh and presses his forehead to his knees.

“Fucking hell,” he says, “Roxanne, you have no idea how much I want you to. But. Just. That isn’t a good idea.”

And Roxanne—really has no idea what’s going on in Megamind’s head here, but he still seems really freaked out. But he’s still into this, right? The way he’s holding his body like that, hiding from her; is he embarrassed? Or maybe he just doesn’t feel ready to be touched by someone else?

“You—you could show me, instead?” Roxanne suggests. “You don’t have to be shy, Megamind; I’m sure I’ll enjoy watching, even.”

Megamind gives that choked laugh again.

“Really, though, what is it?” Roxanne asks, trying for a tone of gentle teasing. “I’m not some—delicate little girlish thing. You don’t have to be romance-novel-hero-guy and worry about scaring me with your ‘throbbing member’”.

Megamind looks up at her sharply, blush spreading across his cheekbones, and Roxanne was prepared to explain that reference, but he totally understood it, didn’t he?

“You like romance novels?” she asks, grinning.

“Please don’t laugh at me,” Megamind says in a small voice.

“Why would I laugh at you?” Roxanne asks, reaching out and touching the hem of Megamind’s sleeve (he twitches, but doesn’t move away). “Obviously, I read them, too. I just—had you pegged as more of a sci-fi kind of guy.”

“Some science fiction is okay,” Megamind says, watching her face closely. “But I prefer romance. Or fantasy. They’re—kinder.” He makes a face. “It gets a little strange reading about the glorious defeat of the alien invasion when you—you know— _are_ _the_ _alien_ _invasion_.”

“Huh,” Roxanne says. “I never really thought about it that way, before. I guess I just figured you’d like sci-fi since you’re, well. Such a nerd.”

Megamind gives her a weird look.

“Oh, come on, Megamind,” she says, rolling her eyes. “You know you’re a nerd.”

“I’m not denying the label,” Megamind says slowly. “I just—it’s sort of—incredible to me—that you apparently see me as that, first, before—that you don’t see me primarily as an _alien_ , before anything else.” He shakes his head.

“I mean,” Roxanne says, frowning, curling her fingers in Megamind’s sleeve, “I do know you’re an alien. It isn’t something that I’ve somehow failed to realize.”

“But I think you may have—failed to consider all of the implications. Of that,” Megamind says, eyes on her face, like he’s looking for some sort of specific response.

Roxanne doesn’t know what he’s wanting, though; doesn’t know what response he’s waiting for. He hisses through clenched teeth in frustration and looks away from her.

“I am—I am telling you—I am not human, Roxanne. There will be no—there will be no ‘throbbing member’. With me.”

Oh.

Megamind is—correct that this is not something Roxanne has previously considered; she actually feels kind of stupid, now, for not thinking of this earlier.

“That’s—that’s okay,” she says.

Megamind looks sharply at her.

“No, it is not,” he says. “This is—miles—away from—okay is not a thing that this is.”

“Am I going to hurt you if I touch you?” Roxanne asks.

“What?” Megamind asks. “No. Why—”

“Is touching you going to hurt me somehow?” Roxanne asks.

“No, of course not, that’s not—”

“Then I don’t think there’s anything to worry about,” Roxanne says, wrapping her fingers around Megamind’s wrist.

“Roxanne—”

She pulls at his wrist, tugging him towards her.

“Come on,” she says. “Please? Let me. Please. I want to.”

Megamind hesitates, but then allows her to pull him forward, to guide him to lie down on the bed, on his back. She lies down next to him, turns towards him, presses her body against his, curling up to him.

Roxanne rests her chin on his shoulder and kisses his neck, feeling him tremble in response. She rests the palm of her hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat racing, and then begins to unbutton his shirt.

One handed, it takes a while, but that’s probably for the best; she doesn’t want to rush this and risk Megamind getting scared again. She gets stuck on one of the middle buttons, fumbling with it until she has to laugh at herself.

Megamind gives a quiet laugh, too, breathy and surprised, and reaches up to help her with the button.

“Thank you,” Roxanne says, and kisses the edge of his jaw.

Finally she gets his shirt open; she pushes the sides of it, and of his jacket, apart, strokes her hand down over his chest. Megamind feels human enough here: pectorals, nipples, ribcage, navel. She pushes herself up on one elbow. Yes, he looks human, too. Human shaped, anyway; all of his skin is that beautiful, flawless blue. She runs her hand over his chest again, continues down over his stomach until she hits his belt buckle. She taps her fingernail on the M logo, looks down between his legs.

There is something there, certainly, bulging beneath the fabric, rather more of a something than she’s expecting, the shape different than what she’d see with a human man, but these are secondary realizations, secondary to the fact that it is moving, small, slight movements, seemingly independent of the rest of Megamind’s body, which is statue-still.

Roxanne feels her eyes going wide. This is—going to be _way_ _more_ _interesting_ than she was prepared for. Is it weird that she’s excited about this? Surely that’s okay, right?

“How in the world do you usually wear skintight clothing?” she blurts out, putting her palm flat against him, feeling the way he moves in response, god that is fascinating.

“—retractable sexual organs; not usually like this,” Megamind says in a rush, voice high and tight. “Shouldn’t have—wasn’t thinking—earlier—when you let me—it was too—”

“Did you like going down on me?” Roxanne asks, rubbing her her hand over the covered shape of him. “Did that turn you on?”

He moves under her palm, tiny little movements that, along with the quiet choking noise he makes, are really answer enough.

“Extremely,” Megamind says, voice shaking. “That was—extremely. You letting me do that—I was not ready for that. You are—overwhelming, Roxanne.”

“I’m glad you liked it,” Roxanne says, undoing the buckle of his belt. “Because you are really amazingly good at it, Megamind.” She swiftly flicks open the button of his pants.

“Really?” he asks, disbelief in his voice.

Roxanne looks up at his face.

“Did you not notice how much I enjoyed it?” she asks.

“Was it a lot?” he asks, frowning. “I wasn’t sure. I mean, haven’t got any data for comparison purposes—”

“Tell you what,” Roxanne says, grinning, “I will be happy to provide as much data on that as you like.”

“Oh,” Megamind says, looking ridiculously excited about that prospect; Roxanne, judging him to be sufficiently distracted, pulls down the tab of his fly and slips her hand inside his pants.

And, oh, _skin_ , he isn’t wearing anything underneath those pants, slick skin and movement and Megamind making an inhuman noise in the back of his throat, god. She pushes his trousers a little lower on his hips, wanting to see—

That _is_ interesting: blue tentacles, pressing against her palm and sliding into the spaces between her fingers. They’re slick, and something about the way they shine, coupled with their bright blue color reminds Roxanne of candy, somehow, makes her mouth water.

Is that a weird thing to think? Oh, fuck it; who cares.

Her headache is almost entirely gone, after the painkillers and the orgasm, and her stomach is feeling much more settled—

“Can I go down on you?” she asks eagerly, pulling her hand up and letting the tentacles run through her fingers, then pressing her palm back down over them. “I really want to go down on you.”

Megamind makes a sound that isn’t words. Roxanne glances at his face. His mouth is open and he’s staring at her as if she is some sort of scientific impossibility, maybe a miracle.

“That,” he says, “that is—not the response—that I was expecting—I—you—you can—you can do whatever you like to me, Roxanne.”

And Roxanne’s heart flips over at that, at the breathtaking amount of trust implied in _do_ _whatever_ _you_ _like_ _to_ _me_.

And this is Megamind, Megamind with all his spikes and his smoke and mirrors stripped back, letting Roxanne push his knees apart and settle in between his legs, Megamind lying on her bed with the sunlight coming through the curtains on Roxanne’s window and surrendering to her completely: you can do whatever you like to me, Roxanne.

He’s pushed up on his forearms, looking down the length of his own body at her, jacket and shirt unbuttoned and falling off his shoulders, belt unbuckled and fly undone, trousers pushed half off of his hips, all blue skin and blue tentacles and bottomless green eyes rimmed with smudged black eyeliner: everything that Roxanne never knew she wanted and had no idea that she could have.

He reaches out a hand and touches his fingertips to her face; he’s trembling; she can feel it, and Roxanne has never before considered that she might be able to make Megamind’s hands shake. She covers his hand with her own and presses it to the curve of her cheek. Megamind shivers and Roxanne guides his hand to the back of her head, waits until he’s tangled his fingers in her hair, and then leans down and licks over the tantalizing blue tentacles.

Her subconscious is still thinking _candy_ , but she is nevertheless surprised when he really _does_ taste sweet. That’s—

She licks him again, tongue flat, trying to taste as much of him as possible. Megamind moans.

Yes, definitely sweet; not the simple sugary taste of candy, but lighter than that, more alive. Roxanne puts her lips to the side of one of the tentacles and sucks gently. Megamind gasps for breath; the tentacles all pulse and then go still again. Roxanne drags her tongue over him again; is he trying not to move the tentacles? She slides just the tip of her tongue over a single tentacle; it pushes up against her tongue as if it’s seeking more sensation.

She smirks. Thought so. She flicks her tongue teasingly over him in a random pattern; he twitches and hisses through his teeth and tightens his fingers in her hair, but doesn’t use his grip to bring her closer, doesn’t try to make her do anything, doesn’t thrust his hips or move the tentacles at all.

God, if she wasn’t hungover and still a little uncertain about her stomach, she would wrap her lips around all of them once and suck him hard until he screamed; she bets she could make him forget himself enough to move _then_.

Roxanne sucks lightly at the tip of one tentacle; Megamind makes a small noise in response, so she sucks harder, reaching her hand up to play with the rest of them at the same time.

“ _Oh_ —” Megamind says.

Roxanne works her way around all of the five tentacles in light little licks until she reaches the tentacle at the top of his sex.

“Oh— _ah!_ —”

She flattens her tongue and licks up the underside of that tentacle, then looks up at Megamind.

He’s—he’s looking at her, still, watching her with dark eyes and parted, trembling lips, and when she smirks at him and presses a feathery kiss to the tip of the tentacle, he says—

“Roxanne—” in a voice that’s ragged around the edges and filled with so much adoration and amazement that Roxanne simply cannot bear to tease him any longer.

She gathers all of the tentacles in one hand, fingers moving against him rhythmically: gripping him harder, softer, harder again, fingertips rubbing over his tentacles.

“Roxanne—!”

Megamind’s head falls back, eyes closing; Roxanne twists her wrist and his whole body falls back onto the bed, back arching as he claws at the sheets. Still moving her hand, Roxanne licks around the exposed tips of the tentacles.

Megamind cries out sharply. Roxanne swirls her tongue over the tentacles and he claps his hands over his mouth, muffling the sounds that he can’t seem to stop himself from making. She wraps her lips around the tips of them, sucks as hard as she can, and Megamind—

—makes a broken, sobbing sort of noise into his hands as his hips twitch and jerk beneath her, tiny little movements that he’s so clearly still trying to control, as his tentacles flutter beneath her fingers and against her tongue, a gush of that sweet-tasting liquid filling her mouth and sliding over her hand.

He shudders; Roxanne feels it, and she licks him one last time and sits up, looking at him with a smile.

Megamind has his arms wrapped over his head now, his hands on the top of his head, his face hidden in his arms—

He gasps for breath, and the sound is still almost like sobbing—what is—

Roxanne looks down: the tentacles are moving still, writhing against themselves even harder than before.

“Did you not—” she begins.

Megamind makes a miserable sound low in his chest.

“—yes—” he says, voice sounding near tears, “—but—again—need—need to again—you don’t have to—give me a second and I’ll—”

Roxanne crawls up to lie beside him again, presses her lips to his right cheekbone—the only part of his face that she can reach, and slides her hand down his chest towards his tentacles.

The noise Megamind makes sounds more like distress than pleasure, but he turns towards her before she can even really touch him, reaching out for her, one hand sliding underneath her head and into her hair, the other wrapped clutching at her shoulder, one leg thrown over hers as he rolls his hips into her, finally, finally moving for her, grinding against her, riding her hip.

“I love you,” he gasps, his face hidden against the curve of her neck. “I love you; I love you, Roxanne; I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry?” Roxanne asks, sliding her arm around his waist, underneath his jacket and shirt, finding warm skin,—god, the way he’s moving is so fucking hot; the tentacles pushing and sliding against her skin, the hard, relentless roll of his hips— “What are you sorry for?”

“Doing— _this_ —” Megamind says brokenly, face pressed to her neck, thrusting against her hip like he can’t help himself, “—being—this—loving you— _existing_ —”

Roxanne’s heart twists painfully.

“Shh, Megamind,” she whispers, “—shh, sweetheart. No. I’m glad you exist.”

He makes a sound that is clearly a sob through gritted teeth.

Roxanne tightens her grip around his waist, pulling him closer.

“I’m glad you exist,” she repeats. “I like the way you are.”

Megamind makes another choked, sobbing noise; she can feel him shaking his head; Roxanne feels like her heart is breaking.

“And, Megamind—”

Roxanne turns her head, presses her lips to his ear, tells him—tells him—

Tells him the truth.

“—I love you, too.”

He doesn’t even cry out this time, just gasps and then goes silent, hips jerking against her, body curving around hers. Roxanne kisses his ear and strokes her thumb over his hipbone until he’s finished, until he’s lying still in her arms, just trembling slightly, and panting for breath, mouth pressed to her neck.

“So,” he says, voice uneven. “That was pretty terrible.”

Roxanne feels as though—as though the world has been pulled out from underneath her.

“Oh,” she says, as Megamind pushes away from her and sits up, turning away from her.

Pretty terrible—was she not—

Roxanne swallows, sits up herself.

“I mean,” she says, “I—I thought it was good.”

Megamind makes a harsh noise, turns towards her with a vicious suddenness.

“Really?” he snarls. His cheeks are wet with tears; he drags his sleeve over them roughly. “Which part was your favorite? The part where I cried like a pathetic, unstable idiot? Or the part where I humped your leg like a dog?” He smiles bitterly. “Obviously _my_ favorite was the part where you lied to me—thanks for that, by the way. And good thinking. That definitely got things over with quicker.”

And Roxanne—Roxanne doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know what to—

But he’s still smiling that hard, angry smile, and she _can’t_ _stand_ _it_.

She climbs into his lap and kisses cruel shape of his mouth to stop the angry words, until she feels his lips give ever so slightly beneath her own. She pulls away.

“Megamind,” she says, brushing her hands over his cheeks, brushing the tears away. “Megamind, I wasn’t lying. I’m not lying. I love you.”

Megamind growls and catches her wrists, pulls them away from his face. Roxanne doesn’t try to fight him; instead she leans forward and brushes a kiss, light and fast, over his lips. He growls again.

“Stop. It.” he says.

“I love you,” Roxanne says, and leans forward. He turns his head, so she kisses his cheek instead. “I love you.” She leans forward once more; he pulls his head back so she kisses his chin.

He makes an angry noise.

“You don’t need to lie to me any more,” he says, voice tight.

“Megamind,” Roxanne says, settling back to look him in the face. “What possible reason would I have to lie to you?”

“I told you—”

“And you were wrong about that, too,” Roxanne cuts him off. “But I mean right _now_. Right now, in this moment, Megamind. _I_ _love_ _you_. What reason would I have to lie to you right now?”

He opens his mouth, and then—

—he frowns, confusion spreading over his face.

Roxanne gives a breathless laugh at his expression, and leans forward to kiss him again. He lets her this time.

“You—you love me?” he asks when she pulls away, sounding so terribly uncertain.

“I love you,” Roxanne agrees, smiling at him. She pulls her wrists from his slackened grip and cups his face in both hands.

“I love you,” she whispers. “I love you, Megamind.”

“Oh,” Megamind breathes, and kisses her.

* * *

 

“This—” Roxanne snickers, leaning back against Megamind’s bare chest as he’s leaning against the headboard, “—this is the worst piece of toast I have ever eaten in my life! How did you—what did that poor piece of bread ever do to you?”

“So much criticism!” Megamind says, laughter in his voice. “I’ll have you know that this is the closest I have ever come to making an actual, edible piece of toast! I was quite proud of it!”

Roxanne laughs and Megamind tightens his arms around her.

“I thought you said you knew how to make toast,” she tells him.

“I understand the concept,” Megamind says. He kisses her neck; she can feel him smiling. “It’s the execution that escapes me.”

Roxanne holds up the charred toast.

“ _Execution_ ,” she says, “that’s a good word for it, all right.”

“I try to do something nice!” Megamind says, tone of false outrage ruined by the way he’s laughing. “And what do I get? Mockery; nothing but mockery! I’ll have you know, Miss Ritchi—”

Roxanne tips her head up backwards and kisses him.

He kisses her back, both of them laughing as he does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3
> 
> the end.


End file.
